


nous échangerons nos deux âmes

by AlphaBanana



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, just two clowns clowning, so much yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaBanana/pseuds/AlphaBanana
Summary: November Writing prompts with Adam and Detective Sophia LaveauRating may change as we go.
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 42
Kudos: 72





	1. November 15th: Beauty

His subconscious is a traitorous thing. Even when he tries to leave her be, he is drawn back into her orbit.

Adam finds Sophia on the balcony, and she is as beautiful in moonlight as she is in every other kind, if not more so. Moonbeams make her skin glow before they are swallowed by the fathomless black of her hair, unusually tied back from her face, making her look younger, less guarded, more open and—

And before Adam can leave her staring at the moon like she is searching for something in its depths, she senses something behind her and turns, tense and ready to act before she sees him and sags in relief (and she will never know how much that warms him, that she feels safe with him).

“I—I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can—” He has not felt such a callow youth in nearly a millennium, stammering in front of a woman – but they were women, beautiful and kind enough, but she is _her_ , and he does not deserve—

“No!” Her panicked objection is loud to both their ears, and she winces, looking over the balcony to see if anyone wakes. When she is confident that they remain alone in the night, she speaks again, the rhythm of her words halting.

“No, it’s—you can stay, I don’t mind.”

They settle into silence and Adam looks out over the treetops, stretching out to the horizon, the darkness somehow comforting. He takes a deep breath in, and feels his muscles relax in a way that they do not usually when he is here alone.

Adam chances a glance to his left and almost gasps to catch Sophia looking at him already, smoke-grey eyes tracing the lines of his jaw and cheekbones so intensely that he feels her gaze as if it is her touch. She averts her eyes, embarrassed at being caught (and he wants to tell her to never look away but—) and she is beautiful when she blushes, as she is beautiful when she does any myriad of things, and he has to clear his throat roughly before he says—

_What?_

What could he possibly say that would suffice?

At that moment, she tries to stifle a yawn, pulling a face as if irritated with herself, and he allows himself to smile at her.

“You should rest. We have combat practice tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it already.” She tries to make her voice dry, but her efforts are belied by the small quirk of her lips, and there’s a lightness in her step as she moves to the doorway.

She turns back to face him, and his breath hitches slightly in his throat at the sight of her silhouetted there.

A small secret smile is on her lips, just for him. “Goodnight, Adam.”

He likes the way his name sounds on her tongue more than he would ever admit.

“Goodnight, Det— _Sophia_ .” From this distance, in this lighting, he can try to convince himself that her flushed cheeks are a trick of the light. _Try_ , at least.


	2. November 16: Comfort

Sophia places the Trapper bounty back on Rebecca’s desk firmly, trying to control her heart rate and, for the most part, succeeding.

“So…” Smoke-grey eyes meet Rebecca’s blue ones for just a moment, before looking away as if she has been struck by a Gorgon. “What happens now?”

“Well, Unit Bravo will increase their surveillance of you and your primary locations, and you know that if you ever need me—”

Sophia lets loose a scoff of something that wears laughter’s skin at that, and it’s the straw that broke the camel’s back, twenty-eight years of resentment bubbling up before she can push it back down.

“What?” Sophia’s laughter curdles into a scowl on her face at the confused look on Rebecca’s face and the accusatory tone in her lilting voice.

“You’ve never been there when I’ve needed you.” Sophia’s voice is quiet but there is a venom there that even she is shocked at, and she doesn’t miss Rebecca’s sharp intake of breath before blue eyes turn to ice.

“Don’t act like a child.” Rebecca’s voice is cold as it has ever been, and Sophia can feel her shoulders begin to rise with a wave of tension.

“Then don’t act like you’re my mother.”  _ You never have before _ .

Rebecca frowns and seems irritated, more than anything, at the fact that she is being distracted from the files in front of her. “Sophia, for God’s sake—” 

“Let’s think. What about the time when I nearly died and you sent me a  _ get well soon card _ !” Sophia’s voice is shrill and she  _ hates it _ , hates the weakness in her voice like she had been taught to hate the weakness in everything by the woman in front of her she still can’t bear to call  _ mother _ .

“You’re not  _ still  _ angry about that? Surely you understand why I—” Rebecca has the audacity to look stunned at that, almost righteously angry, blue eyes wide before her brow furrows in something that looks like genuine confusion.

“ _ I was twelve! _ ” Her shriek is loud enough to break glass, and then Sophia’s heart sinks as she sees first Adam and then Mason appear in the doorway and she can’t bear the looks on their faces, tender and concerned and  _ warm _ , she  _ can’t _ —

“I have work to do. Call the station if you need me to know anything.” Sophia’s voice is flat, as it usually is when she talks to Rebecca, and Rebecca has already turned back to the files on her desk. Sophia looks for a moment at the woman there, at the line of her jaw and her delicate cheekbones, before she turns to leave.

She has only just made it to her car when she hears a voice behind her.

“Detective.”

Her heart stops, then thuds heavy at the realisation. The idea of having to explain this to Adam now is exhausting.

“Agent. Everything all right?” Now it is his turn to frown, eyes scanning over her with a concern that she has learned not to see as anything other than that for a teammate, much as she had foolishly entertained the thought that he might—

“Don’t…don’t do that“ Sophia is talking before she realises, and turns away from him to fiddle with her keys, swearing softly as she drops them next to the tyre.

“Detective?”

Now it is  _ Adam’s _ turn to pretend not to have noticed what is by now a stated, incontrovertible fact, and Sophia rolls her eyes and knows that he knows she’s doing it, even when he can’t see her face.

“Don’t pretend that you care. It makes it worse when I remember you  _ don’t _ .”

“ _ Sophia _ .” The admonition in his voice is light but still there, and Sophia whirls around to face him, forcing her breath to stay even and not stutter in her chest at the sight of him in the early dawn light, gold and green and  _ beauty _ in the form of one man.

“I can’t—I can’t do this now, I’m sorry.” She turns away (and it is becoming easier to do that, easier to turn away than see him and feel the distance between them yawn like a chasm) and  _ finally _ unlocks the damn door, throwing her bag onto the passenger seat.

“What do you need?” Adam’s voice is calm, and gentle, and everything that she has ever wanted – but it is his question that gives her pause.

_ What  _ **_do_ ** _ I need? _ In 28 years, Sophia has to rack her brains to remember if anyone has ever asked. The weight of that nearly crushes her, and a sob leaves her before she knows what she is doing, and once she has started she can’t stop.

She doesn’t hear the pained hitch of Adam’s breath, but she feels his arms around her, and for a second or thirty she feels safe, comforted,  _ lo _ —

And it is too much, too  _ cruel _ , to play the part of Tantalus, hands grasping for something always out of reach.

For all his strength, it is easy to twist out of the circle of his arms, and her voice is shaky as she tries to reassure him through the shadows of sobs that still linger. “I’ll be fine. I have plenty of work to do.”

“You know as well as I that those sentences do not mean the same thing.” He is probably one of the only other people that understands that distinction.

“It’s enough.” She feels bereft for an instant as his hand lifts from her shoulder, before setting her jaw and trying to smile. “See you when I see you.”

“Soon.” Adam promises, and Sophia’s throat closes again as she shuts the car door and she makes it a mile before she has to pull over and sob into her hand at the side of a long country road.


	3. November 17th: Wanderer

It’s been a while since Sophia’s done her own patrol, usually availing herself of Felix or Mason or, most recently, Douglas – but Mayor Friedman tells her in no uncertain terms that the town expects their detective to show their face, so she assents through gritted teeth.

It is… _ nice _ , she realises with a start, to wander through the streets again, and Wayhaven is dark enough at night that she is able to see the stars clearly in the night sky, the moon the main source of light as her feet carry her through streets she hasn’t walked in almost a year.

Traitors that they are, they seem to carry her on the exact same path as Adam’s Agency patrol, almost bumping into him.

For a moment, the pair of them stare at each other, illuminated by moonlight and the flickering amber of Wayhaven’s solitary streetlights, and Sophia cannot breathe—

“I didn’t realise you were on patrol tonight, Detective.” He seems unsure, somehow, as if he does not know himself whether that is a statement or a question, and Sophia worries at her lower lip with her teeth before answering.

“Mayor Friedman wants more visibility. The fact that we have about eight officers total doesn’t seem to factor into the equation.”

His small huff of laughter, almost reluctant, is like a gift, and it is on impulse that she divulges one of her best kept secrets.

“Sometimes if it’s quiet, there’s an old granary in the industrial estate on the outskirts of town - it’s abandoned now, no one’s been there for decades, but on clear nights you can almost see out to the bay, and—”

And suddenly she’s aware of how  _ stupid _ she sounds, how pathetic, and she turns away, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I’m being—”

“Beautiful.” His tone is almost reverent, eyes tracing her features like he means to commit them to memory, before he catches himself, as he always does.

“That  _ sounds _ beautiful.” He rubs the back of his neck distractedly, and chances a glance at her through surprisingly thick lashes.

“It is. I—”

And then Felix catches up to Adam, and the moment cracks and shatters like porcelain in her hands and she  _ can’t breathe _ . Sophia stammers a goodbye, leaving the pair of them confused behind her, and makes a detour down one of the alleys she remembers from patrols gone by and scales the chain link fence separating the west and east sides of town and the newfound distance feels both like a blanket and a noose.

She wanders for the rest of the night, unable to settle herself.


	4. November 18th: Bullet

She has been in the training room almost constantly since the Trapper bounty came whistling into their lives and detonated.

Adam watches from the doorway as she pounds at a punching bag, thrusts precise and powerful (for a human, at least). Her loose shirt slips slightly with the rhythm of her movements, and the edge of a scar on her shoulder blade, ragged and violent, is just visible as the muscles in her back shift under pale skin. Adam feels his fingers clench into a fist at the thought of how she might have come by it. He doesn’t notice her turn to face him, seeing his indignation clearly before he can hide it.

“Problem, Agent?” She still has no problem challenging him, although now it is almost playful.

“You—” He starts to stammer and her eyebrows raise to almost  _ dangerous _ levels at that before he can find his voice again.

“You have a scar. Just—” He almost reaches out to touch it, before instead pointing to the same place on his own shoulder.

She nods slowly in understanding, and his eyes cannot help but track the shape of her lips as they round.

“Oh,  _ that _ . Yeah, I—” And then she is turning round and moving more of her shirt to the side to give his gaze better access, and suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter that Adam hasn’t needed to take a breath in 900 years, he  _ needs _ one as she exposes one lean, muscled shoulder to him, marred only by the jagged edges of the scar

“Tina and I were on secondment to a unit in Glasgow for a few months - some drugs bust, and the guy had a gun and shot me when my back was turned.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, but that does nothing to soothe the way his rib cage feels like it is closing in on his heart at the mere thought.

“You should be more careful.” Adam’s voice sounds pleading to his own ears, weak and helpless in his worry for her, and Sophia cocks her head in confusion.

“Being more careful wouldn’t have made a difference.” Her voice is almost unbearably soft, then, as she seems to consider moving her hand to touch his before withdrawing again, and he cannot tell how he should feel at that.

“Sometimes things just happen, Adam.”

“ _ Please _ .” He has not begged anyone in centuries, and for a moment he isn’t sure what he is asking for.  _ Please be careful. Please know your worth to me. Please let me _ —

“I’ll try if you do.” Sophia says slowly after a long pause.

Compromise does not come naturally to either of them, and for a moment his assent lingers in his throat ( _ he already knows, always has, that he will not hesitate if it is her, no matter that he must keep that hidden _ ) before he rasps.

“I will try.”

She seems satisfied with that, for now at least, and throws him some bindings with an entirely different type of challenge. “Since you’re here…”


	5. November 19th: Peace

The task of paperwork is methodical enough. Safe enough for Sophia, who seems to constantly throw herself in the path of danger at any opportunity, to settle Adam’s nerves for a little while at least.

They are in her apartment, with its simple, Spartan style and dark grey palette, and a few odd trinkets catch his eye. A small wooden horse, beautifully whittled from a piece of rich cedar. A glass paperweight with swirls of garnet red in its depths. A case of fishing flies mounted on the wall.

Almost without thinking, Adam opens his mouth to ask about them - but then he looks at her, brow furrowed in concentration, and thinks that she seems to value privacy almost as much as Nate.

As the evening progresses, Sophia’s usually-rigid posture relaxes more and more and Adam feels himself doing the same against his will, icy resolve melting against her until—

Until he feels her breathing even out completely, cheek resting on his shoulder, and she looks so  _ vulnerable _ in sleep that he reaffirms his daily, unconscious oath to protect her always.

He stays still for as long as he can justify it to himself, listening to her breathing and the gentle thud of her heartbeat and feeling  _ at peace _ . He then takes off her heavy boots and gently lays her in her bed, taking care not to wake her ( _ part of him wants her to wake, so that he can see her eyes, softened by sleep, before he leaves _ )

He thinks he dreams her murmuring his name in her sleep as he leaves her, and ignores that siren call in favour of retreating to the safety of the warehouse.


	6. November 20th: Escape

Adam isn’t sure exactly _why_ Unit Bravo have been invited to Tina’s birthday party, though he suspects that Tina thought it might make Sophia happy.

She certainly _seems_ happy, cheeks flushed from exertion and partaking in Officer Poname’s ( _Tina’s_ ) liquor, and now she is laughing, and he thinks that might be the most beautiful sound of all, beyond dawn choruses and sirens and the distant memory of his mother’s voice.

The music changes and the beat is so loud that Mason visibly snarls, only relaxing slightly at the feel of Nate’s soothing hand on his shoulder, and through his own wince Adam sees—

He sees her _dancing_.

Not as he would know it, all sharp lines and formal motions. She is dancing with Tina to a heavy, sultry beat, and he feels his cheeks heat like a boy playing at being a man. The focus of his world narrows to the undulations of narrow hips and a lean muscled frame, movements as practised when dancing as they are when he watches her fight, and all of the air has been sucked from the room and he _needs to escape_ —

A few ragged breaths of clean air in the garden later, Adam feels less like he has been dosed with DMB - at least until he is cornered by Tina against the sparse foliage at the foot of the garden.

“So…” Warm eyes look up at him, and he can already tell that she thinks she knows something.

“So I find parties overwhelming.” Adam smooths his features into what he hopes is a calm, professional mask.

“And yet, you stayed in the party for nearly two hours before leaving. Curious, no?” Tina shows just why Sophia trusts her as her second, and Adam keeps quiet, prompting her to continue.

“You wanna know what I think?”

“No.” Adam answers out of principle, and she is already ignoring him as he knew she would.

“Well, I think that you like her, and she likes you, and you’re both too _dumb_ to do anything about it.”

“She doesn’t - and she’s not. Dumb, that is.” In truth, Sophia is one of the most intelligent humans Adam has met over the centuries.

 _The less said about Adam the better_. He turns away abruptly, not seeing Tina shake her head sadly and rejoin the party.


	7. November 21st: Protocol

_Loin de nous la sagesse_ _  
__Plus de tristesse_ _  
__J’aspire à l’instant précieux_ _  
__Où nous serons heureux_  
Je te veux

**ADAM**

“I’m not fucking doing it!”

\--

Sophia barely registers the team already sat waiting patiently in her office as she storms in, Sung hot on her heels.

“Stop being a baby.” Sung’s voice is sharp, harsher than normal, and Adam watches her roll her shoulders once, twice, before turning to face him. “No-one likes it, but that doesn’t mean—”

“But it’s stupid!” Sophia’s voice borders the shrill, and Mason winces and moves nearer the door, but Sophia is still going. Whatever has gotten her so worked up, it’s all Adam can do to school his features into a mask of professional disinterest, rather than get caught up in how her eyes are sparking, chest heaving as she carries on shouting.

“If I don’t need to do it every fucking day on the job I don’t need to do it for a stupid party.” She has folded lean arms over her chest now, and her lower lip juts out in a pout, waiting for Sung’s rebuttal.

“Sophia. It’s protocol.” And just like that, the fight seeps out of her, and Adam can’t help but smile slightly as she sags in defeat.

“Well, I don’t have anything and there’s not enough _time_ , it’s in _two fucking days_ , I can’t just—”

“I’m taking over here today,” Captain Sung waves a hand airily to reassure her (but Sophia looks no more reassured than Adam would if Lesedi said she was taking over _his_ duties for a day), “and I’ll liaise with Rebecca about what her team can be doing in the meantime.”

He hands her a credit card and one eyebrow curves.

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” Her voice is low, and neither Adam nor Nate can hide their slack jaws before Sophia and Sung laugh together, rich and deep.

“That’s the town card – if they want a dress-up doll, the least they can do is pay for it.”

Sung smooths his hair down and puts his cap on top, nodding professionally at Unit Bravo as he leaves.

For a moment, no one speaks. As always, it is Felix who breaks that silence.

“Soooo…what was that all about?” Felix’s voice is a drawl, aided by the twang of Agent Carter’s accent still lingering in the younger vampire’s voice, and Sophia rolls her eyes impatiently, speaking in a rush.

“A minor annoyance, nothing you need to worry about.” The finality of her tone makes Adam’s heart clench against his will, and he frowns deeply and starts to caution her.

“If you’re worried, then we need to—”

“Why is Sung your sugar daddy?” Mason asks, uncharacteristically loud, and Sophia glares at him as always.

“Technically, Mayor Friedman is—” And _everyone’s_ brows raise at that, Sophia shaking her head in response, seemingly uncomfortable at the very thought and it is Nate, wonderful Nate, who brings the conversation back to the point.

“It seems serious, if the Mayor is involved.” Nate’s brow is furrowed, and Adam can’t help but mirror his expression, jade eyes searching Sophia’s face as she sags again, slim fingers pinching the bridge of her nose where it is slightly uneven, perfectly imperfect.

“It’s just a stupid town function, that’s all. But rules are rules, and female attendees must wear dresses, and even if I hold this town together by the bootstraps just fine in jeans and cargo pants every fucking day.”

“Sooo…what’re you gonna do?” Felix asks, cocking his head at the rare, defeated look her face.

“Well, _apparently_ , I’m to take the rest of the day off and go dress shopping.” She wiggles the town credit card at Felix half-heartedly, before letting it slip from her fingers onto the desk, which Adam sees is still taped at the corner as a testament to the weakness she has elicited in him from the very beginning.

“One of us will need to go with you. For security.” As soon as the words have left his lips Adam regrets them – regrets how they attract Felix’s smiling eyes to him, regrets how now he is thinking of Sophia in a dress and regrets the thrill of panic that she might be able to see so in his face.

“That won’t be—I’ll be fine.” She has always refused protection, always, and some of his usual irritation surges back before Nate answers in his stead.

“Adam’s right, Sophia – if the Trappers want you badly enough for that kind of bounty…” Nate’s words are gentle, yet Adam cannot help the way his jaw clenches and unclenches at the thought of Trappers even laying a finger on her. Her resigned, wordless acceptance only soothes his anxiety a little.

“I’ll go.” Mason volunteers, uncharacteristically forward, and he shrugs at everyone’s disbelieving looks. “Bobble-head’s been up my ass all day.”

“Her _name_ is _Tina_.” Sophia’s tone is almost dangerous, and Adam lets himself smile a little at how protective she is of her officer, even as he watches her shrug on her coat and push past Mason to leave.

“Be interesting to know how you clean up, guttersnipe.” And before Adam can snarl a warning at Mason (Mason _knows_ how much Adam hates that little nickname – she is _beautiful_ ), she tells him to _get fucked_ , and his snarl turns into a smile, as it so often does, even despite himself.

When she and Mason leave, the smile stiffens into a worried frown, and he turns to Nate.

“Mason hasn’t been briefed on the latest Trapper activity in the—”

“If you were that worried, you should have gone with her.” Nate interrupts, his tone uncharacteristically harsh and Adam _knows_ he is right, and yet. And yet the thought of having to pretend that he didn’t see the moon in Sophia’s eyes while she was trying on a dress had made his heart tighten as if constricted by steel cables, freezing him in place as Mason had offered to go with her.

Instead he turns away with a frown. “It is a waste of her time.”

Felix chimes in then, and it is all Adam can do not to strangle the younger agent.

“Time she could be spending pining over you?”

\--

The pair of them return a few hours later, Adam having almost worn a hole in the carpet pacing back and forth.

Sophia’s breath is little more than a sigh, looking and sounding exhausted, and Adam moves nearer to her in concern. “Sorry it took so long, we—”

“Turns out our little guttersnipe cleans up _very_ well.” Mason gives Adam a meaningful look from behind Sophia’s shoulder, and Adam _snarls_ in annoyance.

“Mason…” Nate starts to warn Mason, but Felix, having been cooped up for longer than was strictly prudent, cannot contain himself.

“Details!” Amber eyes shine with mirth, flitting between Sophia and Mason and dulling ever so slightly at Sophia’s withering glare, aimed thankfully at Mason rather than anyone else.

And Mason, shockingly, complies, drawling that it wasn’t his tale to tell and offering Sophia a small smile.

**SOPHIA**

It’s the dreaded day, and the function seems to be the only thing Felix wants to talk about.

“What do you have to do? What are you wearing? Can we come?” His voice is breathy with excitement, and Sophia winces slightly at the sheer volume.

She starts to count off on her fingers. “Not much. Not telling. Categorically _no_.”

“I thought Sung told you that you had to have a Plus One?” Sophia loves Tina, truly and deeply, but right now she could throttle her.

“Tina.” Sophia’s voice is low with warning, and she gestures at Felix as subtly as she can manage.

“You can’t take me, though,” and Sophia actually feels herself sag with the realisation that her usual option wasn’t available to her. “I already have a date.”

“Ooh, what’re they like?” Sophia’s ears prick up, and she leans forward with genuine interest – Tina’s never normally kept anyone long enough to be comfortable bringing them to meet anyone ( _what’s the point if they leave two months later?_ ).

“She’s a clerk at the county court offi—“ Tina breaks off part-way through, and Sophia almost winces at the sternness on her face. “ _Don’t_ try to change the subject. You _know_ you need a Plus one, so who are you taking?”

“Friedman’s lucky I’m going at all, lazy bastard.” Felix gets up, quiet as a cat, and moves to leave, but his shit-eating grin tells her that he has absolutely heard what Tina says next:

“What are you waiting for? Ask Adam!”

“ **_No_ **.” Sophia can’t describe the nausea she feels at the idea of him seeing her in that kind of environment – it’s different here, where she knows the rules and she can dress how she likes. But practising walking in the kitten heels in the evenings at her flat has already nearly earned her a broken ankle for her troubles, and she’d sooner die than have him see her at a disadvantage.

“Sophia, please. I just want you to be happy.” Tina is pleading, warm brown eyes seeming to see into her soul and it is _too much_ —

“Tina – enough.” Mercifully, Tina stops – but it becomes very clear that she would have continued were it not for the unholy intervention of Mayor Friedman’s arrival.

“Sophia, good to see you.” _Fucking choke, you scrote_. Still, she lets him shake her hand, trying to wipe the clammy sweat off of it afterwards as discreetly as possible.

“Who are you taking tonight?”

Douglas nearly chokes on his lunch (unusually taken at his desk sans mobile phone while he worked on reports) and scrambles forward.

“I—”

“Douglas, _you are already going_. Idiot boy.” Douglas withers under the Mayor’s gaze, and Sophia decides to try and draw the Mayor’s fire.

“It’s in hand, Mayor.” Sophia doesn’t miss Douglas’ grateful look that shoots her, and unfortunately also doesn’t miss his attempt at a smoulder.

“It had better be.” Mayor Friedman tries for a strict tone, but his voice is too reedy to make it stick, and the way he has to crane his neck to look Sophia in the eye undermines every word.

“It was a risk, putting you into Reele’s position,” and Sophia almost gapes at the attempt to suggest that he had had _anything_ to do with Sung’s decision, “don’t make me regret it.”

“Of course not, Mayor.” Sophia’s voice is arctic, even to her own ears, and Mayor Friedman flinches, before bustling off.

“That looked rough.” Tina’s voice is soft now, and her thumb rubs soothing circles into the back of Sophia’s palm.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” Sophia is always fine. She has had to be.

**ADAM**

“You’re taking her.” Felix’s voice is strangely serious, and Adam gapes at him.

“Excuse me?” If Adam has heard a worse idea in the last century, he can’t recall it at this moment, and he stares at Felix slack-jawed.

“It’s perfect!” Felix thinks he is being helpful, and if anything that intensifies the sheer _panic_ that Adam feels almost submerge him at the thought of—

“What’s going on?” Sophia returns to her office then, shoulders tense from her encounter with the Mayor, and Adam tries to warn Felix but instead Felix bounces up to Sophia and says the sentence that makes Adam’s heart stop.

“Adam’s going to take you to the function.”

“He is, is he?” Adam can’t help but notice the way her tone has lightened, just a touch, no longer bearing the cold marks of her fury as it had when Mayor Friedman had been here. And he cannot help himself.

“…yes.” Her answering smile is pleasure and pain all in one.

\--

Later that evening, Adam is fidgeting with the cuffs of an expensive dove-grey three-piece suit while Nate fusses around him, testing different pocket-squares and settling on the first one he had tried, in a jade green silk which matched his eyes. The more time passes, the more Adam can feel himself tense up, and he has to physically unclench his fingers one by one before he rips something.

“Adam. Breathe.” Adam tries to follow Nate’s advice, he really does, and manages to grind out a reply that sounds pleasingly not-laboured.

“But I don’t need to.”

“Oh, you will.” Both Adam and Nate start at Mason’s voice, dark and promising from the doorway. “You’ll wish you could.”

The breath that had been caged in Adam’s rib cage whooshes out in one motion, and he glares at Mason in the mirror.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” Mason is serious now, with a hand on his shoulder as he looks him in the eye in the mirror.

“Just remember how lucky you are. Or I’ll beat your ass.” A small squeeze of Adam’s shoulder, which looks friendly and feels anything but.

Adam allows himself a small smirk, feeling like himself again for the first time since the function was mentioned. “I’d like to see you try.”

\--

To his eternal shame, Adam is nearly fifteen minutes late to the function, having only remembered at the last minute that he would need to drive rather than run and finding that Wayhaven’s narrow streets had been all but logjammed. He enters, hanging back from the crowd for just a moment to get his bearings and readjust his senses before—

Before he _sees_ her, and all his careful planning and coaching is for naught at the sight of her, long legs partly displayed and pale skin contrasting beautifully with dark whorls of midnight blue.

Adam is thankful that he, unlike the humans here, does not breathe.

Her pulse, relatively calm as she had been talking to the Mayor of another town, spikes at the sight of him, erratic and _scared_ , almost as scared as she had been the last time they had fought the Trappers side by side, and he tries to smile as she catches his eye and moves over to him. Now she is next to him, by his side, scowling about her dress being restrictive, her heels (and he realises with a start that she is the _same height as him_ , and _that_ hardly does anything to help his composure) and mercifully not noticing the way Adam’s mouth practically opens and closes helplessly as he fails not to notice the way the dress hugs her body.

 _You are radiant_.

It is with no small amount of horror, as he watches her jaw slacken and smoke-grey eyes widen, that Adam realises that he said that aloud.

“What?” Her voice is little more than a breath, caged behind lush lips and he cannot help himself.

“I—You are so beautiful.” Were his father yet alive, Adam has no doubt that he would be punished for blasphemy, so deep is the reverence in his voice, but he cannot _help_ it if it is the truth, the everyday beauty of her highlighted in a new light that took his breath away.

The thud of her heart grows more insistent, more _uneven_ , and he steps closer to her out of alarm (he remembers before, tales of how women’s hearts would constrict from the brocades and the stays and any number of other contraptions over the years). Smoke-grey eyes meet jade - or he _thinks_ they do, it is hard to tell when her pupils are _enormous_ , blown wide and all-consuming and he _wants_ her—

But she cannot be his.

“We should—” Adam’s voice is rough and deep to his own ears, and she pulls away, despite the flutter of her pulse at their proximity and despite something else he doesn’t fully understand lingering in her eyes.

“We should.” Sophia agrees, almost sadly, and Adam doesn’t stop to think about what _that_ means before he stammers something about keeping an eye on the perimeter.

“Shall we?” Her voice is distracted, grey eyes seeming to finally take him in, running over the way the buttons of his shirt stretch over the planes of his chest as he offers her an arm.

Adam feels her pulse jump, and looks at her sharply, only to find her already looking at him and it _burns_ to be near her and not to have her, and he thinks that this may be the worst idea Felix has ever had.

The dances start, and Sophia seems content enough to mingle (she seems to know these people, their lives and their stories, and he smiles to see her start to relax).

“I never thought she’d come. It doesn’t seem like her _scene_.” The pathologist is at his elbow, and Adam glances down to look him in the eye briefly before returning to Sophia.

“She fits in perfectly - she puts the rest of them to shame.” Adam speaks as if he is talking to himself, before realising that he still, in fact, has an audience.

“Quite.” The pathologist’s lips quirk slightly, before he looks up at Adam searchingly. “You know she—”

But Adam doesn’t hear what Verda is saying - his heart is too busy slamming into his feet at the way Sophia’s form has tensed up completely when faced with the undeniably charismatic Bobby Marks. Adam cannot hear what Bobby is saying to her—but he hardly needs to, and he pushes through the crowd and arrives at her elbow.

“She’s busy.”

There’s gratitude in Sophia’s eyes at his intervention, and something else that he doesn’t dare name, and Bobby’s eyes darken with disappointment when her long fingers coil into the crook of Adam’s elbow as he leads her to safety.

“Thank you.”

Adam curses his reticence, curses the way that the words won’t come. “Would you, uh—would you like to dance?”

Her heart thuds so loudly at that that it sounds almost painful, before she steadies herself.

“I’ve never, um—” Sophia has never looked unsure with him, and Adam feels his heart seize in response, before he offers her his hand, hoping that she will not see the tremor there.

“That’s fine - I can lead.”

And then, with her hand in his and their hands on each other, they are _dancing_ , moving around the room with the grace of principal ballet dancers and the precision of elite fighters, as if they had been made to hold each other, move against each other—

One of the turns brings her close to him, as the dance (scandalous for its time) intends, and it is all he can do not to groan at the feeling of her so close to him, her scent threatening to unbalance him in every way.

When the dance is over, Adam both cannot bear to break away and _must_ , for his own sanity. “I—”

“We could dance some more. It’d stop us from having to make small talk with other people.” Sophia’s words come quickly, as if she is worried she’ll lose her nerve if she doesn’t speak _now_.

“I’d like it.” _You have no idea_.

They dance for the rest of the night, even when a fine film of sweat forms on both of them (he can _smell_ the salt on her skin, and it is all he can do to not lean forward to taste it).

When they finish, her heartbeat drowning out any other music, they excuse themselves, Mayor Friedman barely looking up at them, and Adam doesn’t miss the way Douglas’ eyes flit over Sophia’s form, and he cannot help but draw her a little closer as they leave together.

It’s only when they escape into the car park that Sophia’s exhaustion catches up with her, and she stumbles a little against him.

Adam knows that she is exhausted when she doesn’t even protest at his insistence that he drive her home. He is even more certain when he looks over at one point on the journey to her flat to see her snoring softly.

He lifts her from the Agency SUV as gently as he can manage, trying and failing to ignore the way she burrows into his chest, seeking his heart even in sleep.

Adam manages to get to the front door before Sophia stirs as her long legs bang on the door frame, and she starts and grips at the front of his dress shirt when she realises that she is being held aloft.

“Uh—Adam…?” Sophia’s voice is rough from even that short sleep, and Adam has to squash a shiver at the way that her voice rasps along his senses.

“Of course. I—Here.” And _oh_ , Adam did not think this through, because her frame, lean and firm, is pressed against his, sliding along the entire length of his body as he lowers her gently to stand on her own two feet, and he disengages quickly enough that his head feels like it is spinning.

“Can you help me?” And his attention snaps back to her (she has _never_ asked something like this of him), and the incongruity of the gesture almost takes his breath away. It is definitely _that_ , rather than the realisation, as she reaches futilely for the zip, that she wants him to—

“Here, let me—” Adam moves before his brain can scream at him to stop, and brushes her hair away from the nape of her neck to tug the dress down. Her shiver at his touch seems to ripple through her body and into his, and he tugs the zip down as briskly as he dares, stopping just below the dimples at her back and taking a long step away.

Adam has to cough to make sure his voice leaves him in the right octave. “Right, well, I should—”

“Yes, I should turn in – thank you. For everything.” Sophia’s voice is slightly fuzzy, and while her breath is lightly spiced her eyes are wide and clear, and she seems to reach for him—

And then she pulls her hand away at the last moment, turning her back to him, and it is with the sight of her, half-displayed, half-lit by the moonbeams streaming in through her window, that he leaves her, and sits in the SUV to clear his head.

It is dawn before he feels steady enough to drive again.


	8. November 22nd: Storm

“Sophia, _wait_.”

For a human, she is surprisingly fast, long legs carrying her away from him, and there’s a panic at that distance, infecting his every breath, even as she stops in her tracks.

“What.” Her question is flat, voice as tightly wound as her shoulders, the tension visible even from where he is standing behind her.

“Don’t walk away from me.” Adam hopes that the desperate, pleading tone in his voice is only audible to his own ears - he suspects not as she turns round to face him and she is almost incandescent.

“Why not? You wouldn’t want to be _burdened_ with another _useless human_.” His words sound cold and cruel recast in her voice, with her lips curled in a sneer that seems anathema to her, and he suppresses a wince even as he rejoins with his previous argument.

“If you keep leaping into danger like that I can’t— _We_ can’t protect you.” He doesn’t miss the way she flinches at that _we_ , even as she tries to hide it by flailing her arms at him.

“I don’t _need_ you to protect me!” Sophia all but screams in his face, and the ice running down his spine is from more than the assault on his senses - he nearly recoils at her _rejection_ , before he leans in at her next attack.

“And anyway, _you_ were the one with a Volt aimed at your fucking head! I couldn’t just—”

“I’ll heal. You _won’t_ .” Adam cuts in, and spots her wince as she starts to object before she can hide it and _oh_ , he is _angry_ too, now, even as she tries, in a much gentler tone, to assure him that she’s fine.

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to take basic precautions.” Whatever softening she had attempted hardens like diamond at his accusation, and her eyebrows raise into the raven black of her hair.

“I don’t see why you’ve decided it’s your place to ask.”

 _What?_ Of course it—how could it not—

“What?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that—” The words strangle in her throat, and he can see the muscles working, clenching and gasping around the air that won’t come, and he can’t bear to wait for her words.

“That _what_ , Sophia?”

“That we—” Sophia’s lips move soundlessly as she tries to find the words (and he cannot help but track the motion, even now), as her shoulders sag helplessly. “That there is no _we_.”

 _Oh_ **_no_ **.

“I—” _I want you. I need you. I will only ever find my completion in you_ . Any one of these, locked in his heart for what he knows now is _centuries_ , would have sufficed, but they remain caged on his tongue, and she takes his silence as answer.

“Am I wrong?” Her hand is on his chest as if to shove him, but it lingers over his heart, and for a moment all he can feel is her hand burning him like a brand, claiming him as hers.

_So wrong._

“Sophia—” He tries again, eyes flicking to her lips, the way they stretch around the vowels she uses to attack him, the way her breath is coming short and sharp, small puffs landing on his skin like battering rams.

“ _Am I wrong?_ ”

Adam doesn’t mean to move forward, doesn’t mean to close the distance between them that seemed to yawn wide as a chasm. But suddenly he is _kissing her_ , and it is like an electrical storm raging beneath his skin. He almost growls into her panting mouth as his hands move to hold her to him like a life raft, one arm looping around her waist to bring her closer ( _never close enough_ ) while his other hand cradles the back of her head with reverence, as it is the most precious thing to ever grace his palms.

For her part, she clutches him like she is drowning, hands gripping into the back of his shirt with enough force to bruise a normal man, and he welcomes this pain, as he has welcomed all others, if it means that he can just be as close as he has drea—

_What am I doing?_

Sophia almost falls when Adam breaks away from her panting, and the breaths that drag into his lungs are laced with her scent, the burn as overwhelming as that very first night at the Warehouse, when she pierced his skin with more than a mere bullet.

Adam’s voice is weak to his own ears, but he must speak before her heartbeat, racing and erratic and _so close that he can almost taste it in the air_ , draws him under again.

“I—I’m sorry.”

Adam is gone before she can blink, but the yawning distance between them feels different, as if his centre of gravity has shifted and there is something deep inside his chest that tries to pull him back to her.

He is stronger than the storm - he always has been, for nearly 1,000 years. He isn’t sure why that no longer feels like a good thing.


	9. November 23rd: Perfect

If you had asked Sophia to write a farce, a kind of tragicomedy, she could write none more perfect than that.

 _I’m sorry_.

 _What the fuck is_ **_that_ ** _supposed to mean?_

The words are like acid, corroding her ability to even _think_ straight, to think about anything other than _him_ . So, three hours later, she is still sitting with her reports unopened, staring at the bare wall of her apartment feeling _pathetic_.

If she closes her eyes she can still feel his lips against her, pressed less against her lips and more against her very _soul_ , searching for something there even as she had tried to meld into one person with him in her arms. There was something that felt _right_ about that, even as he had been able to twist out of her grasp and twist her heart into knots with ease.

 _Fuck this_.

And then she is gone, driving into the night, to one of the only places of quiet that yet remains to her that he has not invaded and conquered with his very presence.


	10. November 24th: Unrequited

**NATE**

“So what the fuck _happened_?”

Tina’s question is as pressing as it is frustrating, and any answer eludes them still, despite having gone around in circles for what feels like centuries. Even Nate can feel his much-vaunted patience slip.

“All I know is that he stormed back into the gym,” a neutral enough term for the training room, one that Tina would not suspect, “and hasn’t spoken to anyone since.” That had stung, truly, and Nate had tried to hide it from everyone, even Mason, to no avail.

“And all _I_ know is that _she_ didn’t come to work today for the first time in six years.” That _did_ seem unlike Sophia, who was forever having to be nudged awake from her makeshift pillow of manila files.

Nate and Tina are silent for a moment, turning things over in their minds, until Tina gasps so loudly that it hurts Nate’s ears.

“Nate, _they kissed_.” Tina’s voice is almost wondering, and he cannot help but think he has misheard her.

“ _What?_ ”

That seems wholly unlikely – Adam wouldn’t—he has never even—Nate isn’t even sure that he’s _ever_ —

“They probably just fought.” They brought out the best in each other, but that hardly meant that they were perfect, rough edges rubbing each other up the wrong way almost every hour of the day. And sometimes, in a lull in the argument, a different kind of tension lingered in the air between them, thick enough to cut with a knife, thick enough to _choke in_ —

“They fight all the time and she’s _never_ done this.” Tina is insistent, and worry, usually well-hidden behind witty remarks and jabs that Sophia gives back as well as she receives, bleeds into her voice.

 _That_ is true enough. _And_ they had been on patrol together the night before. That much time alone—

At a minimum, words would have been exchanged.

“I’ll see what I can dig up.” It’s all he can promise for now.

\--

Nate finds Adam on his fifth training dummy, and winces instinctively as the wooden skull _shatters_ into splinters on impact.

Nate knows Adam, knows that when he is angry he will not want to see anyone. But this destruction goes beyond anger, and Nate cannot help but feel _fear_ penetrate even his core. “Adam—”

“Don’t. _Please_ .” And that is all Nate needs to hear to _know_ that Tina, for all her too-sweet coffees and her chaotic energy that rivals Felix’s, is one of the most perceptive humans he has ever met.

“You need to fix this.” Nate begins to pace, scenarios running through his mind. Tina had said before that Sophia had never so much as shown an interest in anyone else, let alone _acted_ on it, and if Adam is _here_ —

_Where is Sophia?_

“I can’t.” Adam’s voice is so quiet that Nate can barely hear it, even with his enhanced senses, and Nate’s voice grows louder in response.

“Adam—”

“I _can’t._ ” There is desperation in Adam’s voice, and a kind of hopelessness that makes Nate _angry_ . Angry at Adam, _for_ Adam, but most of all for _Sophia_ —

“Adam, no one knows where she is.” _That_ makes Adam turn, and Nate starts slightly at the sight of jade eyes rimmed with the red of unshed tears, eyes that are now _scared_.

“Where—Where was she last seen?” Adam’s voice is barely a breath, but Nate can _hear_ the fear, feel it seep into his skin.

“By you, presumably. Tina hadn’t seen her since—” But Adam is already moving, leaving the training dummies mangled on the training room floor, grabbing his coat from an end table, and Nate fights the urge to follow him, to hover behind Adam like a parent as he struggles. Instead, he cleans up after him - what little he _can_ , in any case.

**ADAM**

For a while, he wanders, unable to think straight.

_Missing, and it’s all your fault._

_Your fault._

Weak, _weak,_ **_weak_ **—

And then a memory, clear as crystal, drops into his mind.

_Something she said made him laugh, as much as he was able after all these years without the sound strangling in his throat, and he looked at her bathed in moonlight and felt something settle, heavy, almost choking in his chest._

_In that moment, he knew that he would die to keep her smiling._

_“Sometimes if it’s quiet, there’s an old granary in the industrial estate on the outskirts of town – it’s abandoned now, no one’s been there for decades, but on clear nights you can almost see out to the bay, and—”_

And Adam knows, in an instant, where she is.

\--

Sophia is many things, none more so than beautifully, achingly _predictable_.

Still, she starts as she hears him behind her, before her voice grows soft, _so soft_ , that he has to strain to hear her, and then strain again not to chuckle.

“You remembered.”

“You’re very hard to forget.”

Adam tenses at her sharp intake of breath at that, coiling tighter as she lets out the breath on a sigh that seems to last a century. “You can’t—you can’t just _say_ things like that, it’s not—it’s not fair, I—”

A long pause is all that follows, and he hears the beginnings of sobs in her chest and he wants to hold her to him, before he remembers that that is how this all started.

“I’ll leave you, then.” Adam braces himself for her rejection, as he has been since the moment she found out what he was (and, he realises, even before that – he has always feared being cast aside by her, even before there was a _her_ to fear).

“No, don’t—don’t leave me. Not again.” For the first time since he won his spurs he feels hope, _real_ hope, bloom in his chest and it is beautiful and warm and—

“I don’t—” The words will not come, trying to squeeze through doors long rusted shut - he sees her shoulders sag in defeat, then tense as if in anticipation, before he manages to choke out the rest.

“I don’t want to.”

He watches the same hope bloom in smoke-grey eyes as she demands an answer on an exhale. “What?”

“I don’t want to leave you - ever again, if I can help it.” His voice is broken, _he_ is broken, and he will break a hundred, even a thousand times if it means she will be safe, and happy, and _loved_.

“I may not deserve it—”

“ _Adam_ —”

“—but I will be there as long as you need me.” Despite her protest, he knows it to be true, and her eyes soften as she touches his cheek with a reverence that feels like a _sin_.

“I don’t deserve _you_ .” And Adam does not, _cannot_ , believe that, but she continues before he can reassure her. “I’ve just felt so _guilty_ for wanting something that isn’t mine to have, I—”

“I’m yours.” Her intake of breath is the encouragement he needs, and he ploughs on, having to grit his teeth to force out his words – they have been cowards behind his teeth for so long. “I’ve always _been_ yours. You are—”

“Everything.” The devotion on her face makes his heart ache, leaping out of his chest to try to reunite with hers (and it is _reuniting_ , nothing about this has ever felt like the first time, not truly).

“...exactly.”

Adam’s lips are as reverent as her touch lingering on his cheek, and if this is how kissing Sophia Laveau feels when the pressure of his lips on hers is barely a butterfly’s wing, he thinks he might die if it is any more intense.

It appears that Sophia has other ideas, as the touch on his cheek strengthens slightly, pulling him further into her orbit, and he will stay here, a satellite to her and her passions, until the day he dies. Her hands shake slightly as she draws him closer still, one hand anchoring itself in the back of his shirt and the other preventing him from turning anywhere but her.

Adam has to stop himself from _growling_ into her mouth, wet and wanting _him_ , _only him_ , and she pulls back to scold him.

“No more holding back.”

“Likewise, _Sophia_ .” Her hum against his lips is the nearest thing to heaven Adam will ever feel, and he allows himself to smile against her lips, just a small one, and the answering curve of her grin against his makes everything, _everything_ , worth it.


	11. November 25th: Pirate

“Aarrrr, but Dread Pirate Verda is no match for—Oh! Adam.”

\--

Sophia hadn’t heard Adam come in, and has no clue how long he has been standing there – but from the smile on his face, she suspects that it is longer than he would ever willingly admit to her.

“Sophia. So, the paperwork…”

“…is done on the table if you want to look at it. I’m obviously otherwise engaged.” With Cara hanging from one forearm and Lacey using her other as either a monkey bar or a chew toy, depending on how the mood took her, her predicament required no further explanation.

“Obviously.” And he  _ grins _ , then, as he has only done once before for her, and the sudden weakness in her knees makes her nearly drop Lacey, instead swinging her up into a hug.

“Would Dread Pirate Verda and Mistress Cara of the Seven Seas care to visit the galley kitchen?” Sol is due back any moment, and he  _ deserves _ to receive them as he gave them to her – keyed up on sugar and ready to  _ wreck shop _ .

“But we still have so many islands to pillage…” Untouched sofa cushions seem to call to Cara like a siren, and Sophia frowns a little.

“You’ll have to save some for next time, pet.” Sophia ignores the little choked huff of laughter that escapes Adam at that, in favour of shoving as many skittles into Lacey’s tiny hands as can fit there.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” A low rumble behind her is her only warning before he strikes, arms coiling around her waist as he embraces her from behind, their paperwork forgotten.

“He should know better by now.” Sophia lets her eyes close for a moment, as she has been longing to do since the girls arrived, luxuriating in the feeling of his lips at her temple, and  _ this _ is the only forever that she needs.

“Wicked.” Adam’s lips are at her cheek then, and she can feel the broad smile on his lips against her skin, and she soaks it in like sunlight.

“You love it.” Sophia worries that she has misspoken, then, worries as his smile seems to dim on his lips, which she can sense even without opening her eyes (she is so attuned to him now that she thinks she can catch the scent of his happiness, however fleeting, in the air).

“I do.” His hand is firm, but still unspeakably gentle as he tilts her chin so that she can look up into jade eyes.

“I do.” And the kiss to her lips feels as electric as the first, even as Cara threatens to be sick and the doorbell rings to interrupt them.

_ I do, I do, I do _ .

Once it is just the two of them (as it always should be, and in an ideal world it would just be he and she, Adam and Sophia, forever and ever  _ amen _ ), she turns to him, nestled in the crook of his arm, and kisses his cheek, smiling as he starts at the affection.

“You know I love you too. Don’t you?” She struggles with her words even more than he has, but sometimes trying to  _ tell him _ feels as hopeless as trying to drink an ocean.

His answering smile is golden, bathed in sunset, and when he kisses her she can still feel his teeth exposed in a wide grin, unable to resist stroking the dimple that emerges so rarely even now.

“I know.”


	12. November 26th: Hero

This feels [familiar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27567298/chapters/67675247), and yet _oh_ , so very different.

“Sophia, _wait_.”

A hush settles over the precinct as she storms in, and Adam just manages to catch the heavy door to her office before she slams it in his face, shutting it behind him and locking it.

“Don’t—” The word makes him stop in his tracks, and he looks at her uncertainly, not knowing whether he should comfort her or—

“Don’t look at me for a minute.” Sophia’s voice is sharp, but there’s a waver at the end which tugs at his heart, and he steps forward automatically.

“Sophia—” Her name is a constant prayer that is never far from his lips, and one that he had yelled more than once when they were ambushed and fleeing.

“Why do you do it?” She ignores him and her heart rate spikes, and he has to remind himself that _she is alright_.

“What do you mean?” Adam frowns, and steps closer still, wanting both to understand and to bask in her presence a little longer.

“Why do you _keep doing it_? You _know_ I—” And now he _knows_ what this is, and just as certainly knows that it is his sacrificial tendencies which have vexed her - yet still he recoils at the idea of inaction.

“What, so I should have let them take you? Are you _listening_ to yourself?”

Sophia throws her hands up in frustration then, finally turning around to face him, eyes blazing. “I was handling it!”

“And I wanted to help. When it’s you I—I can’t just—” Adam can hardly bear to finish the thought, and her eyes are almost unbearably soft, even as one long index finger starts to jab repeatedly at his chest.

“I know that. I do. So how do you think it makes _me_ feel when you get hu— _don’t lie I saw you_.” _Of course she did._ He had howled in pain, despite all his best efforts, when the Volt had ripped into him, and if he had been younger or weaker, things would have gone very differently.

But then he looks at her, _really_ looks, and there are tears there, and a fear that rips at him.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Adam cups her cheek with his hand and tries to smile, then tries to tell her with the words that have lain dormant for so long that they have started to fuse and warp in the darkness. “But I can’t promise not to again, I—”

And suddenly, words are not enough for _either_ of them, and they are clutching at each other, lips pressing against the other’s, and this is what heaven feels like, smells like, _tastes_ like, of that he has no doubt. She is hungry for his touch, tongue running over his lips, and that is when he tastes her tears and pulls away, alarmed even as he feels his own throat begin to close.

“I don’t ever want to even think about—you—you have _no idea_ —” Sophia’s voice is broken, and he feels his heart break with it, as he has since the first time she cried into his arms, after finding out about the bounty.

“I _know_ .” The thought of anything happening to her, _ever_ , is enough to make Adam clutch her tighter to him ( _she is safe she is safe she is safe_ ), even as she cries in his arms, long fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

She cries and cries in his arms, and he feels one tear fall despite himself, strangling his voice even when she looks up and brushes it away with a reverent touch.

“I know.” He promises her, and would promise her the stars.


	13. November 27th: Magic

“So, Tina.” Felix’s voice is a purr, and he circles Officer Poname, lithe muscles coiling under ebony skin.

“Tell us a little more about yourself.”

“Uh—”

“ _ Felix _ .” Adam and Nate scold as one, while Mason merely scoffs.

“I’m not  _ doing _ anything.” Felix has never sounded more indignant than he does now. “She can leave at any time, and I just want to know—”

“What do you want to know? Is it about Sophia?” Tina’s voice is curious, leaning forward to look Felix in the eye even as she throws a glance at Adam with a wicked grin.

Felix, for once, is stunned into silence. “I—Yeah, ok. Didn’t think it was going to be  _ that _ easy.”

They chat for a little longer about what Sophia was like at school (straight A*s from the bare minimum of work) and some funny stories from the precinct (“You know Dave, the night-shift volunteer? He was watching My Little Pony and the Captain walked straight in and—") before talk turns to more delicate matters.

“So has she ever been in a relationship?” Nate’s question is curious, but he doesn’t even manage to finish before Tina laughs, the sound tinkling in the small room even as she shakes her head ruefully.

“She’s  _ so _ oblivious – we had an officer here, ages before you got here…I think his name was Ryan? He was absolutely smitten with her and—” Tina pauses to giggle, although what could ever be that funny about Ryan and Sophia, Sophia and Ryan, Adam could not possibly say—

“—and she got him to do all her photocopying! And he always said yes because he thought that that would make her like him more or something and—” Tina slices the air by her neck and giggles, and it is like she has sliced Adam’s own tension in half.

“So, to your knowledge, she’s never—” Mason pipes up, sticking his tongue into the side of his mouth in a way that looks  _ obscene _ , and Adam suppresses a  _ snarl _ at the question, ready to defend her even when she’s not even here.

“I—” Tina is conflicted, then, and Adam looks over to Nate almost instinctively to see a smile already on the face that has been his constant companion for centuries, before he turns in his seat to face the door like a sunflower, and the sun is going to come around the corner in 3…2…1…

“Why are you interrogating my officer?” Sophia’s voice is sharp, eyes narrowed as she looks at Felix, trying to position a desk lamp near Tina’s face.

“I was doing  _ no such thing _ , Detective, I merely—”

Tina interrupts, and there’s an equally dangerous mischief in her eyes when she speaks. “ _ I _ was telling them all about you.”

“Well, they have plenty of time to find all of that out.”

Adam’s heart clenches as Sophia perches on the arm of his seat and leans into him, letting her fingers play in the short hairs at the nape of his neck and his eyes flutter closed for a moment at the sensation...even if he has to force himself to ignore the way Tina’s mouth falls open and Felix’s amber eyes glint with mirth and something softer. Adam thinks, as he brings his arm around to rest his hand on her thigh and draw her closer, that maybe she  _ does _ have magic in her blood after all.

She has always been magic to him.


End file.
